HOME PAGE 

TOPICS
Essays on miscellaneous topics
Short stories 
Academic writing
Travel
Social & political comments  
Theater-acting-teaching kids �
Entertainment reviews 
Pets 
My family & its history  
Other personal autobiography

And recorded by the class’ Book Pals reader, Richard Yanowitz

You have probably heard a tale about a girl named Dorothy who was blown by a tornado to the land of Oz, where she experienced many adventures.

Well, I am here to tell you what really happened.  Much has been hidden all these years because of nasty human prejudice against the most common of all life forms—insects. 

As you may have guessed, I am myself an insect, and proud of it.  Indeed, I am a member of the noblest race of insects of all (I’m sure that our nobility is what makes humans especially hate us more than other insects): the cockroach.  My name is Cucaracha, and I know what really happened to Dorothy because I was there.

Now it’s true that these events started out on a wheat farm in Kansas back in the American Depression.  And it’s true that Dorothy, a 15-year old girl, lived on the farm with her aunt and uncle and a few farmhands.  And yes, Dorothy had a little pet named Toto.

Toto used to follow Dorothy on her two-mile walk to school, and sometimes he got into the schoolhouse and sometimes even bit at the teacher, who was the meanest teacher in all of Kansas.  She was so mean that she decided to take Toto to the pound for trying to bite her.

Thus it happened that one late spring afternoon, the teacher rode her bicycle to Dorothy’s home, told Dorothy’s aunt and uncle what Toto had done, and demanded to take Toto away.  (I know this because Toto told me; we haven’t gotten to where I come into the story—but be patient; we’ll get there soon enough.)  Well, it seemed that the aunt and uncle felt they had no choice, since however mean a teacher might be, you really can’t go around biting her. 

So the teacher, who had a pointy face and looked like a Hallowe’en creature, stuffed Toto into the wicker basket on the back of her bicycle, latched the basket, and pedaled off.

Dorothy, you can imagine, was thunderstruck.  She ran after the bicycle, crying, “Toto!  Come back!  Toto!”  But the teacher pedaled too fast, and Dorothy collapsed in an exhausted heap.  Crying, she walked back to her farmhouse.

“Now Dorothy,” her uncle said, “I know this is very upsetting to you, and I’m terribly sorry it’s happening, but you’re going to have to accept it.”

“Yes,” echoed Dorothy’s aunt.  “This is the Depression, and many, many people in America and the rest of the world are suffering far more than we are.  You'll just have to be brave.”

So Dorothy wiped her tears and tried to be brave.  (At least this is what she later told Toto, who told it to me.  Oops!  I guess I just gave away the fact that Toto will come back into the story.  But you knew that already.)  Forcing herself to do her chores, which she should have started at least a half-hour earlier, she went to the farmhouse kitchen to take out the garbage and carried it outside it to the pigs.  Just after she poured the garbage into their trough, however, she got the surprise of her life.

This is where the story gets interesting—because this is where I come in.

Being a smart cockroach, I had long since learned when Dorothy fed the pigs, and since I, too, love garbage, I was waiting for my dinner—which had been delayed )as I later learned) because of Dorothy’s thoughtless insistence on crying and moping about instead of getting on with her chores when she should have. 

Now normally I hid out when it was time for Dorothy to arrive, because I had learned the hard way that Dorothy loved cockroaches—loved to dissect them, that is.  She always had her dissecting kit with her, elsewhere she went, and I had seen many of my friends caught and cut apart by this wretched girl at pig feeding time.

This day, however, because my dinner was late, I had become restless and careless, so that when Dorothy finally appeared, I was totally visible.  And I was so scared that I couldn't move—scared stiff, I guess you could say.  She didn’t see me for a few moments as she poured the garbage into the trough, but before I could get into hiding, she caught sight of me.  And boy did her mouth fall open!

You see, I forgot to mention one teeny detail: It happens that I am—and I say this with total lack of pride—a huge cockroach, the largest ever.  In cockroach eyes, I’m a giant.  In fact, I have a little dance and song I made up about myself that goes:

I’m Cucaracha, I’m Cucaracha,

Largest cockroach ever seen.

I’m Cucaracha, I’m Cucaracha,

Come look at me and then turn green.

The song gets better as it goes along, but I should get back to my story.

As a result of being so big, it is pretty hard to avoid being spotted, and I could see in Dorothy’s eyes that she was imagining how she would cut me into little pieces.  I saw her patting her pocket to reassure herself that she had her dissection kit with her, and then she jumped toward me and held out her hands as if to cup water in them.  Only when she was about to scoop me up did I recover my senses.  I spread my wings and flew just out of her grasp.  Still a little shaken, I could only fly in circles, and two more times she lunged for me and almost snared me.

But then I managed to straighten myself out, and I flew as fast as I could down the road away from the farm.  Dorothy was running after me, but when I looked back I could see she was losing ground.  Way up ahead I saw a bicycle with a basket on the back, and before long I had caught up with it.  I perched on the top of the basket for a moment, and then, to get out of sight, wriggled through the gap beneath the top.  I flopped in a corner, closed my eyes and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

I was about to doze off when I felt something firm and cold and wet crawling all over me.  What an icky feeling!  I opened my eyes, and you can imagine my terror when I saw some giant animal opening its jaws, lined with giant, sharp teeth, and getting ready to make a meal of me.

“Wait!”  I cried, and the creature paused.  “What are you doing, strange creature?  Why do you want to eat me?”

It stepped back, eyed me suspiciously, and said, “Because I’m hungry, of course.”  It spoke so awkwardly—a kind of growling sound, if you know what I mean, that managed to shape itself into words—that I could hardly understand it.  “I’ve been trapped in this basket, getting hauled off to my doom, and I never even had my supper.  And although you’re only a cockroach, you're the biggest and juiciest cockroach I’ve ever seen by far, and I expect you'll make some dent in my hunger when I swallow you.  And by the way, I’m not a strange creature.  I’m a dog, and my name is Toto.  Now please hold still; I don’t like my dinner stirred up.”  And the “dog” put its tongue out and pushed the tip in my direction.

“But wait,” I shouted.  “I might make a delicious meal, but I can be even more use to you alive.  I’m a magic cockroach, and if you spare my life, I will grant you three wishes.”

“Magic cockroach?  Really?  I’ve never heard of one before.”

“Well you have now.  Go ahead.  I’ll prove it.  Make a wish.  Except of course you can’t wish for extra wishes or other magic cockroaches or anything that gets around having just three wishes.”

I could see I had set the dog to wondering.

“Look,” I went on.  “Just tell me what you'd most like in the world, and you'll see that I grant it.”

I could see the creature drooling, but whether at the thought of food (me) or getting a special wish, I couldn't be sure.  Finally, it said, “All right.  I’ll test you.  But this better work or else you’re…dinner.”

Repressing a shudder, I said, “Name your wish.”

“I want to be free from this basket.”

Snapping two legs together, I announced, “One wish coming right up.”  And I slipped back through the crack beneath the lid of the basket, flew ahead of the bicycle, turned my bottom toward the rider, and squirted a very large dollop of my special defensive juices right in her face.  Screaming and blinded, she lost control of the bicycle.  It twisted to the right, and she wrenched the handlebars the other way, and then it twisted to the left , and she wrenched to the right, and so on and so no until the bicycle turned on its side and she went flying into the mud while the basket lid flew open with the impact and out leaped little Toto, shaken but alive and well. 

“I guess you really are a magic cockroach,” he said.  “What’s your name.”

“Cucaracha.”

“Well, Cucaracha, I still have two wishes coming, so you'd better stick with me.”  Toto glanced behind me.  “And that awful teacher is headed this way, so hop on my back and let’s get out of here!”

I glanced back over my exoskeleton and sure enough, the bicyclist was only a few feet away.  I took a huge leap (being a huge cockroach, in case you might have forgotten), landed on Toto’s back, and held on to his fur with all six legs as he took off just ahead of the woman.  She ran after us but quickly lost ground and headed back to her bicycle.  I watched her get on and try to pedal, but immediately, she fell down.  She tried again and again, finally realizing that the front wheel was bent out of shape and she would never be able to catch us. 

Pretty slow learning for a teacher, if you ask me.

Toto was tearing down the road back toward the farm house, which made me a little nervous.  “Can we go in a different direction?” I shouted.  “There’s a girl back there who wants to cut me into little pieces.”

“Oh, you mean Dorothy, my owner.  I have to go back there.  I know she must be scared and sad, thinking she’ll never see me again.”

“Personally,” I shouted, “I don’t mind her being scared and sad just so long as she leaves me in one piece.”

“Just hide in my fur and you'll be safe.  Remember, I want to keep you alive, at least until you've granted me my other two wishes.”

“Speaking of that,” I said, “Why don’t you use them now?  Then I’ll have done my job, and I can go my own way while you head back to your Dorothy.”

“I’m afraid I can’t think of two wishes just at the moment, and I certainly don’t want to waste any.  But I will  use one of them.  I’m hungrier than ever.”

“You're not still thinking of eating me, I’m sure.”

“Of course not.  At least not yet.  But I’ll use another wish to get my favorite food of all.”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t you know what it is already?  I thought you were a magician.”

“A magician, yes.  A mind reader, no.”

“Picky, picky.  All right then.  I wish for a…”  And at that moment, a loud blast of thunder exploded in the distance—in fact, I could see a small dark cloud at the horizon behind us—and made Toto, hard enough to understand under the best of circumstances, sound as if he were saying “tornado.”  It didn’t make sense to me, but a magician doesn’t ask wishers to be sensible, only to wish.

“Right,” I said, “one wish coming right up.”  And I spoke a few special words which I can’t repeat here because I can’t trust you, dear reader, to keep them a secret and use them only for good.  With that, the cloud that had accompanied the thunder turned into a funnel shape and headed our way.

“Well, Mr. Smarty Pants Cucaracha,” Toto said, “where’s my tomato?”

“Tomato?”  Now I understood what had happened.  “Er…are you sure that’s what you said?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Well you see, old chap, old Toto, old pal, old doggie, I could have sworn you said, ‘Tornado.’”

“Tornado?  Why in the world would I wish for a tornado?”

“I asked myself that very question, but I figured you knew what you were doing.  And I did grant your wish, or what I thought was your wish.  Just look behind you.”

Slowing down, Toto looked back over his shoulder and ground to a shocked halt.  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU CRAZY COCKROACH???” 

“A pretty good tornado, if I do say so myself.”  For you could see the cloud getting larger moment by moment.

“Well, undo it.  Give me the right wish.”

“Ah.  You're saying that for your third wish you'd like me to stop the tornado and also get you a tomato?  That’s really two wishes, you know.  Though perhaps, given all the confusion, I could make an exception this once.

“No.  I’m saying give me my proper second wish.”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.  A wish is a wish.  You can’t take it back.”

“But that wasn’t my wish!”

“Can’t be helped.  Magician’s rules and all that.  I am bound only to grant you what I honestly think you say.  It’s your job to make the wish clear and distinct.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Who ever said wishing was fair?  And by the way, perhaps we should continue this conversation later, in some safe place, like say a storm cellar at the nearest farm.  That tornado is moving very, very quickly, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, why don’t you use your magic to get rid of it for yourself?”

“Not allowed.  Only allowed to grant wishes to others, not myself.”

Deciding he was more scared of the tornado than angry with me, Toto took off again.  In the distance ahead we could see Dorothy’s farmhouse.  About the same distance behind us was the tornado.  As we got closer, I could see a whole set of humans heading for a storm shelter and gesturing towards Dorothy to join them.  But Dorothy had spotted us—or rather Toto—and was running in our direction instead of towards the other people.

Behind us came the tornado.  The gap between us and Dorothy got smaller and smaller.  The dog, the girl and yours truly met up.  Dorothy swept Toto up in her arms and, turning, she ran back towards the farmhouse, the tornado coming ever closer.  Seconds ahead of the funnel cloud, she crossed through the front door of the farmhouse.  In her rush, she tripped over the door stoop and went plunging to the floor, banging her head so hard that even I felt sorry for her.

At that moment a huge cone of wind swept around the house, and I could feel us being lifted skyward.  Since Dorothy was unconscious, I flew from Toto’s fur to a nearby window.  I could see farm animals and vehicles and a bicycle being whirled about, but eventually they faded below us and our house just kept going higher.  For what seemed like hours, I could see nothing at all, but then the wind cleared and a mountain peak came into view.  I could feel us starting to fall as the wind faded, and on the top of the mountain I saw a castle.  An old woman was standing on a terrace watching us with terror as we came closer and closer.  We barely missed the turrets of the castle and then came within a few feet of the woman herself, who was dressed in an outfit full of stars and crescent moons.  Gently, we floated down and down, missing the steep wall of the cliff by only a few feet.

Finally, we hit ground with a force that made the whole house shudder—but it was obviously built well, because it had managed to stand up to the tornado and now it remained in one piece.  Before I could study where we had landed, I heard a moan, looked behind me, and saw that the landing had jarred Dorothy awake.  As quickly as possible, I flew back to hide in Toto’s fur.

Staggering to her feet, Dorothy said, “Oh, Toto, I had a dream that we went on a wild ride into the sky.”  She looked out the window.  “Thank goodness the storm is over.  Let’s go see if Aunt and Uncle are all right.”

She opened the door and stepped out, Toto (with me on his back) following.  Well, you could see at a glance that this wasn’t Kansas any more.  We were facing onto a town square surrounded by little houses and filled with little people.  As soon as Dorothy emerged, a loud cheer went up and one particular little person, all dressed up in a pink uniform and looking very official, stepped forward and bowed to Dorothy.

“Thank you, kind goddess,” the person said.

Dorothy stammered, “Thank you for what?  And I’m not a goddess.”

“You must be a goddess.  Only a goddess could have destroyed our oppressor, the Wicked Witch of the East, who”—and he pointed to our left—“is lying there under your flying goddess’ home.”

I peered up over the edge of Toto’s fur, and sure enough, sticking out from the edge of the house were two feet, one wearing a Shmeike sneaker and the other a Skecher.

Dorothy gasped.  “I didn’t mean to kill anyone.  My house must have been blown here by the tornado.  I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, great goddess.  That witch made the life of all us Munchkins a total misery.  Now we are free and can treat each other fairly and justly and peacefully.”

“Munchkins?” said Dorothy.  “I’ve never heard of you.  What part of Kansas is this?”

“Kansas?  I don’t know where that is, but you're now in the Great State of Munchkinland, on the border of Oz.”

“Munchkinland??”  And Dorothy looked with teary eyes at the dog in her arms as I scrunched further into his fur so she would not accidentally see me.  “Oh Toto, I think we must be terribly lost!”

Toto whimpered something at her.

The chief Munchkin spoke again.  “We don’t know where this Kansas of yours is, but we can send you to someone who is sure to be able to help you return, if that is your wish, Goddess.”

“Please don’t call me that.  My name is Dorothy.”

“Yes, Godde…I mean, Dorothy.”

“Thank you.  Now how can you help us get home?”

“We’ll send you to the wizard.”

Now that made my hearing holes get larger.  A wizard!  Someone I would surely have something in common with!

“Wizard?” said Dorothy.  “There is no such thing as a wizard.”

The Munchkin leader looked around at the other Munchkins and said to them, “Maybe she isn’t a goddess after all, if she doesn’t believe in wizards.”

For some reason that I never learned, every time people in Munchkinland referred to the wizard, they managed to wipe their mouths with the back of one hand so that a blurred sound came out that sounded more like “wizard” than “wizard.”  (I later learned that this motion was considered sacred and had been passed down from ancient times by a fabled storyteller named wichard.)  But I had no time to reflect on this bizarre behavior, for at that moment, I heard a WHOOOOOSH and looked up to see gliding down from the mountaintop, on a broom, the old, oddly dressed woman whom the house had nearly hit as it flew towards Munchkinland.  The Munchkins looked up, too, and they all cheered, almost as loudly as they had for Dorothy.

The head Munchkin walked over to the woman and said, “Glendora, welcome!  What are you doing here?”

The old woman answered, “I was in my mountaintop castle, in the middle of my birthday party, when a house—that house—nearly smashed into my turrets and then nearly took my head off.  I came down to see what it was all about.”

“This goddess…I mean, this ‘Dorothy’ creature…flew the house into our town to destroy the Wicked Witch of the East.  We’re free!”

Glendora turned to Dorothy.  “Young lady—for I can see you are no goddess, though certainly a very brave person—for freeing my good friends the Munchkins from my wicked sister, I will grant you any boon.”

“All I want is to go home to Kansas.”

The chief Munchkin whispered to Glendora, “I told her we know of no such place, and I advised her to see the wizard.”

“Ah, very wise,” nodded Glendora.  To Dorothy, she said, “But if you want to get back quickly, I can give you a magic shortcut.”

“Oh yes, anything!”

“I will give you something magical for your feet that will bring you home in a flash.”

“I know!” shouted Dorothy.  “Magic slippers.  Made of glass, maybe some special color—like my favorite, ruby!”

Glendora shook her head in sadness.  “No, Dorothy.  Perhaps where you come from, glass slippers are common, but here in Munchkinland I can’t imagine how they would be made or who would make them—or how could wear them without breaking and cutting your feet.”  And with that, Glendora went to the two feet sticking from beneath the house and carefully removed the Shmeike and the Sketcher.  “If you put these on your feet and click your heels…”

“I know!” Dorothy shouted again.  “Three times!  That’s always the magic number!”

Glendora and the Munchkins looked around at each other and shook their heads in disappointment.  Glendora turned back to Dorothy.  “No, my young hero.  Not here in Munchkinland.  Here, the traditional magic number is 41.  If you click your heels 41 times, you and your little friend in your arms will return to Kansas, wherever it is.”

“That’s a lot of clicking,” moaned Dorothy.  “But I’ll have to try it so Toto and I can get home before anyone gets too worried.” 

She took the two sneakers and tried to put them on her feet, but struggle as she might, she could not get them on.  “I am afraid,” she said, “that my feet have become swollen from all my running and adventures.”

“Then,” said Glendora, “your only hope is indeed to see the wizard.  But carry the sneakers with you, just in case.”

Dorothy pouted and said in a cranky voice,  “All right.”

“The wizard will grant you a wish, and in fact will grant anyone else one wish also.  Perhaps your little friend would like a wish, too.”

“Oh, Toto can’t talk.  And if he could, I’m sure he’d just wish to go back to Kansas with me.”

At that, Toto muttered so I could hear, “Can’t talk!  It’s that she can’t understand me.  You can understand me, Cucaracha. 

Dorothy shook an index finger at Toto while holding him with one hand.  “Now Toto, you know it isn’t nice to growl.  These are our friends.”

But Toto was really crabby now, and Dorothy’s words didn’t stop him.  “And if I had a wish, I wouldn't waste it on Kansas when Dorothy can perfectly well carry me back with her.”

I said, “I myself don’t need a wish, since I’m a magic cockroach.”  In my most innocent voice, I asked, “But what would you wish for, Toto?”

“I’d wish for something worthwhile, like a tomato.  Aren’t these Munchkins going to offer us anything to eat?  Don’t they know anything about hospitality?”

I said, “A tomato!  Your third wish, Toto.  Don’t worry; I’ll get it right this time.  No more tornados.  And when I’ve granted it, I’ll be free to go.”

Toto shook himself violently, almost slipping from Dorothy’s grip and nearly sending me plunging to the ground so that I had to grip his fur frantically with all six legs.  “No no no no no no nononononononononooooooooooooooooo.  I didn’t actually make a wish.  I only said I would.”

My trick hadn’t worked.  And I didn’t have time to try to change his mind, because I suddenly felt myself swept up in Dorothy’s free hand.  I guess I had come unhidden from Toto’s fur when he became so upset about the third wish.  Anyway, all I could see now when I looked up was Dorothy’s eager smile as she gripped me so that no matter how much I squirmed, I couldn't get loose.

“So you traveled with us from Kansas, did you?  Not a very smart cockroach, I see.  I knew you couldn't escape me forever, especially when you're so huge and ugly.”

Huge and ugly, indeed!  It was bad enough to plan to cut me into little pieces, but insulting me as well really wasn’t fair play at all, as I’m sure you'll agree.

Gently, she slid Toto to the ground and with her freed hand reached into her pocket to pull out her dissection kit.  She opened the lid and reached in for one of her small, extremely sharp dissection scalpels.

I closed my eyes and covered them with my two front legs, awaiting the fatal slash, when I heard the voice of the head Munchkin.  “What are you doing with that cockroach, Dorothy?”

I opened one eye to see the blade poised an inch from my antennae.  Dorothy said, “I’m going to dissect it, of course.  I love dissecting cockroaches.  Doesn’t everyone?”

As if in a single voice, the Munchkins collectively gasped.  Their leader rushed forward and grabbed Dorothy’s wrist to pull the knife away from my body.  “You can’t dissect this cockroach.  Or any cockroach.  Today is Cockroach Appreciation Day in Munchkinland!”

Dorothy’s mouth turned into a pout.  “That’s not fair!  I saw this cockroach all the way back in Kansas.”

“Who ever said rules were fair?” said the Munchkin.  “That’s our law, and you must abide by it.”

Sulking, Dorothy put the scalpel back in her dissection kit, closed the kit and returned it to her pocket.  “Don’t get too cocky, Mr. cockroach.  We’ll just wait until midnight and then I’ll dissect you.”  And she pulled a bow from her hair, tied one end of it around my mid-section and the other end around Toto’s neck.  “That should hold you in the meantime,” she said.  Of course, if she had known that I was obligated to stay with Toto until he had his third wish, she wouldn't have needed to bother with this humiliating treatment of me.

Shouts from various Munchkins went up.  “You can’t do that!”  “It’s not right!”  “No way!”

“It’s only against the law on Cockroach Appreciation Day,” snapped Dorothy.

“But,” announced the chief Munchkin, “in Munchkinland, every day is Cockroach Appreciation Day.”

It looked to me as if Dorothy was ready to throw a tantrum.  Then her face lit up.  “Tell me something.  Does Oz have the same laws as Munchkinland?”

My exoskeleton shivered.  I could see where she was going with this.”

“Well, no.”

“Then point me on the way to Oz, and I’ll kill two birds with one stone—or one cockroach with one scalpel, at any rate.  I’ll do my dissection, and I’ll get my wish to go home to Kansas.”

I could see the Munchkins weren’t very happy with this, but they knew they were stuck.

Glendora spoke up, gently and sadly.  “If it wasn’t clear before, it is certainly clear now, Dorothy, that you are no goddess.  My friends will be forever grateful that you put an end to their oppression by the Wicked Witch of the East, but we will all jp[e that you come to your senses and spare that poor cockroach’s life.”

“Just point me to Oz,” Dorothy insisted.

Glendora gestured beyond the village.  “Do you see that road out there that curves and seems to be made of golden rectangles?”

“You mean what looks like a yellow brick road?”

Forgetting their disappointment with Dorothy over Cucaracha, the Munchkins buzzed happily.  “Why what a wonderful name for it!” exclaimed the Munchkin leader.  “It has always been called Wicked Witch of the East Drive, but our first act of liberation shall be to rename it the Yellow Brick Road!  All in favor, say ‘Aye!’”

And a unanimous roar went up from the Munchkins.

Glendora had not forgotten Dorothy’s mean streak, however, and sternly she went on.  “You follow that road, and eventually it will lead you to Oz, where you will easily locate the wizard—everybody there knows him.”

Remembering her manners, Dorothy curtsied (which was considered polite in those days) to the Munchkins and said to them and Glendora, “Thank you all for helping me.  I’m sorry you don’t understand about the importance of dissecting cockroaches, but in every other way you have been kind to me, and I will never forget any of you.”  And with that she picked up Toto (I gripped his neck fur for dear life, though it didn’t look as if my dear life had much longer to go) and headed toward the Yellow Brick Road.

And so the three of us, Dorothy, Toto and yours giant truly proceeded down the Yellow Brick Road.  To keep up her spirits, Dorothy started skipping and singing some song about silly rainbows and blue-colored birds, and pretty soon Toto was merrily skipping alongside her, and before I knew it I was so caught up in the adventure that I forgot I was dissection material, and I started starting dancing on Toto’s neck and singing (a much better song than Dorothy’s, if I do say so myself):

I’m Cucaracha, I’m Cucaracha,

Largest cockroach ever was.

I’m Cucaracha, I’m Cucaracha,

On the golden road to Oz.

Well, Dorothy was skipping so happily (probably thinking about dicing me up after midnight) that she didn’t pay any attention to where she was going, and suddenly, KER-CLANG, she bumped into an unmoving creature standing in the middle of the road and knocked it down.  Toto braked to a halt, which sent me flying in a big circle (since I was attached to that disgusting ribbon—you'd think a girl of Dorothy’s age would wash her hair more often) almost cutting my beautiful abdomen in two with the ribbon.

Yelling and moaning, Dorothy hopped painfully in circles around a creature made entirely of metal—tin I realized from having seen tin roofs on the farm back in Kansas.  With a savage kick, she knocked the person down, and he slid into a large puddle of oil in the middle of the road.  Of course, since the person was made of tin, the kick only hurt Dorothy’s foot (it served her right, I thought, and now maybe she would never be able to get that shmeike and skecher on), and she flopped down into the road alongside the tin man, clutching and rubbing her foot.

Well, the tin man wasn’t upset the least little bit in spite of being brutally knocked down by a rude and spoiled girl.  Instead of scolding her, he was saying, “Thank you, thank you,” over and over.  Or rather, his head was saying that, several feet away from his body, having rolled off after hitting the ground so hard.  “I couldn't budge until you came along because I was all rusted up, but now that you so kindly placed me in this puddle of oil, my parts are getting less stiff.  If you would only be so kind as to put my head back on my shoulders, everything would be perfect and I’d be grateful forever.”

Now a properly raised girl would have replied pleasantly and thanked the tin man for praising her instead of trying to kick her back.  But not Dorothy.  No siree.  She hobbled to her feet, yelled angrily, “I’m hurt, and I haven’t eaten anything in hours,” and she climbed over the fence alongside the road into an apple orchard.  Even I, the most wonderful giant cockroach in the world, had never seen apples like these: they were huge, and I could see Dorothy’s mouth watering as she eyed them.  Finally, she walked under the largest one of all, as big as a cantaloupe, and jumped high in the air to pluck it from its branch.

Well, she knocked it loose all right, but she couldn’t get control of it.  It bounced off her hands, onto her head (so she started moaning even louder), thudded onto the ground and zig-zagged towards the road, over the bricks, straight towards the tin man’s head, which was still calling out, “Thank you, thank you, please put my head back on my shoulders, thank you, thank you.”  The apple collided with the head like one croquet ball hitting another so that the head was set in motion and, as if by magic, rolled straight to the tin man’s shoulders, settling into the clamps for keeping the head attached to the body.  The clamps automatically snapped the head back on.

While Dorothy moaned, holding her aching head (from the apple) with one hand and her sore foot (from kicking the in man) with the other, the tin man stood up, wriggled its joints several times to spread the oil throughout them, and then walked to the large apple.  Picking it up far more gently than I would have thought possible of an all-metal creature, he walked to the fence and held the apple out to Dorothy.  “Here is the food you wanted, kind stranger.  Perhaps you would now be my friend.”

Well, even a brat like Dorothy couldn't continue to be rude to such a kind creature, and pretty soon they had exchanged information about each other, Dorothy said that she and Toto and her soon-to-be-dissected cockroach were going to the wizard (she never remembered to rub the back of her hand across her mouth when she said the word).  The tin man said he would like to go along so that he could get a wish granted, too.  His wish was never again to fall into slimy, grimy, nasty messes.

So now it was four of us traveling together.  Before too long, we came to a fork in the road.  Off in the corn field beyond the fence was a scarecrow under attack by crows.

“That’s strange,” said Dorothy.  “The crows seem to be terrorizing the scarecrow instead of the other way around.”

Toto didn’t care about scarecrows.  He was yapping  over and over, “Let’s go, let’s go, I’m hungry, let’s go,” and although Dorothy had said she couldn't understand him, she crooned, “All right, Toto, we’ll go on.  Now if we could just figure out which fork to take.”  She looked at the tin man.  “Do you know?”

He shook his head.

From nowhere, a voice said, “This way.”  Then the voice said, “That way.”  This went on several times until the tin man pointed at the scarecrow.  Sure enough, even as the crows were tearing at its straw, the scarecrow was trying to point down both paths at once and saying “This way, that way.”

Dorothy’s hand flew to her mouth.  “The scarecrow is alive!  We must save him.”  And leading the way, she scurried over the fence, followed by Toto (bouncing me all over as he hurried) and the tin man.  Dorothy and the tin man slapped at the crows while Toto yelped at them until all had flown away.  Then the tin man and Dorothy helped the scarecrow down. 

The scarecrow looked pathetic, and Dorothy did the best she could to rearrange its straw and make it presentable.  “Why were those crows attacking you?” she asked.  “Why didn’t you scare them away?”

The scarecrow’s voice was high-pitched and shaky.  “I used to scare them, but one of their tribes, called the Brave, volunteered to sacrifice themselves by destroying me so that all the other crows could eat the corn in this field.  They Brave crows expected to die, but they discovered that I couldn't actually hurt them, and ever since then my life has been a misery.  All sorts and sizes of crows eat the corn whenever they want, and when they're full they have great fun pecking at me.”

“That’s terrible!” Dorothy exclaimed.  “Why don’t you join us.  We’re off to see the wizard of Oz and get our wishes granted.  Toto and I are going to wish to go back to Kansas…”

At this, Toto started growling again.

“Hush, Toto,” Dorothy said.  “We’ll get there soon enough.”  She continued to the scarecrow, “And the tin man is going to wish never again to fall into slimy, grimy, nasty messes.  What would you wish for?”

The scarecrow thought and thought and thought.  Finally, he said, “I want…I want…wait, I’ve almost got the name, it’s a…a…brain!  Yes, that’s it!  A brain!”

“Good choice,” said the tin man.  “Now can you tell us which fork of the road goes to Oz?”

The scarecrow put a finger to his chin and bent his head first this way, then that way.  He looked down the left fork, and he looked down the right fork.  Finally he closed his eyes, spun around 41 times (I kept count) and held out one straw arm, which pointed to the left.  “That way!”  he announced with total confidence.

Dorothy and the tin man eyed each other with doubt, and I only hoped that the scarecrow had gotten it wrong so we wouldn't go to Oz at all and I wouldn't get dissected.

“All right,” said Dorothy.  “Let’s go that way.”  And so we did.

Now there were five of us, but not for long.

Before you could say, “PS3 rules,” a huge beast of the jungle—a lion—leapt from behind a tree and blocked our way.

“GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”

Dorothy cowered behind the scarecrow, who hunched behind the tin man, who didn’t look very happy himself.  Raising its long, sharp claws and baring its teeth, the lion advanced toward us.  But Toto, seeing his owner in danger, leapt from her arms and (once again jerking me from one side of his neck to another as he ran) dashed at the lion.  This, I thought, is the end of Toto, but maybe I’ll be lucky and while eating Toto the lion will bite through the ribbon around my waist and I’ll be able to fly away.

But it was not the end of Toto at all.  Instead, the lion stopped short, covered its head with its front paws, and rolled over on its back, weeping and groaning, “Please don’t hurt me!  Please don’t hurt me!”

Toto stood inches from the lion and continued yelping at him.  Seeing that she was safe, Dorothy stepped forward and addressed the lion.  “You're quite a scaredy-cat, aren’t you?  Or I should say, a scaredy-lion.”

“Please don’t eat me,” mumbled the lion.  “I’ll do anything you want.”

“I thought lions were supposed to be brave.”

“Exactly,” moaned the beast softly.  “We are.  I’m a disgrace to my kind.  Oh how I wish I could find courage.”

“Well, perhaps you can get your wish.  If you promise not to hurt any of us, you may join our group.  We’re off to see the wizard and get wishes granted.”

“The wizard!” interrupted the lion. 

“Yes, the wizard.”

“I’ve heard of him.  But I’ve never known where to find the wizard.”

“Well, we’re going to find him.  Toto and I are going to wish to return to Kansas, the tin man will wish never again to fall into slimy, grimy, nasty messes, and the scarecrow is going to wish for…”

“Don’t say it!” interrupted the scarecrow.  “I’ll remember.  I’m going to wish for a…a….wish for a…brain!”

“In that case,” whispered the lion, “I’ll wish for a heart.”

So the six of us proceeded along the Yellow Brick Road.  Toto continued to growl about being hungry, and that made me realize that I hadn’t eaten in a long time myself.  That wretched Dorothy had interrupted my dinner way back in Kansas.  I wondered if we might pass a garbage dumps where I could persuade Toto to romp so that I could have a bite to eat. 

But around the next turn in the road, we suddenly saw in the distance a vast series of magnificent, tall towers.  And before very long, a sign at the side of the road appeared that read, “Leaving Munchkinland/Entering Oz.”  Apparently, the tin man had guessed right about which fork to take.

Pulling her dissection kit from her pocket, Dorothy hurried ahead and crossed to the other side of the sign.  The tin man, the scarecrow and the lion were just a few moments behind her.

“Come, Toto,” Dorothy called.  But Toto hung back. 

“How can I get my third wish if Dorothy cuts you up?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“Why don’t you take your third wish now?” I suggested.

Dorothy was stamping her foot several yards away, just over the Oz border.  Toto paced in a small circle, and finally said, “All right.  I’ll take my third wish.  I hate to use it this way, but I’ve gotten used to you and maybe even to like you a little.”

“What is your wish?”

“I wish that Dorothy will never dissect Cucaracha or hurt him in any way.”

I was flabbergasted.  I had thought of Toto as such a silly creature, and here he was, giving up riches or happiness in favor of saving my life!

“Thank you, Toto,” I murmured.  “One wish coming right up.  If you bite through the ribbon, you shall have your wish.”

Toto did as I asked, and in a few moments I was free, flying just above him.  “I shall always remember you for this, Toto.  And I’m truly sorry about the tornado.”

“Well, it gave us an adventure together, didn’t it?” Toto chuckled (or as close as a dog can come to a chuckle), and he padded off to join Dorothy.

I could hear her saying, “Toto, you bad dog!  How could you let that wonderful specimen get away?  I may never forgive you for this.”  I felt grateful to Toto, and sorry that Dorothy, whom he loved so much, was being so selfish and rude.  But there was nothing I could do to help, so I flew high above my former traveling companions and headed for Oz to see what was there.

I never saw any of those creatures again.  I myself stayed on in Oz awhile and had some fascinating adventures there.  But that’s a story for another time.  For now, I hope I’ve helped set the record straight about what Dorothy was really like, how that tornado really happened, and so on.  And although I can’t tell you what happened to Dorothy or the others, I wouldn't be surprised if it went pretty much as the books say.  Maybe someday the tin man or the scarecrow or the lion will write an account so we’ll know.

I only hope that Dorothy, if she did manage to return to Kansas, forgave Toto for being so brave and good to me, and that she learned to take pity on all creatures, especially my fellow cockroaches.